Mind on Music

I am sitting cross-legged on the floor, and someone on the couch behind me is tapping his toe into my back. Another guy is throwing printer paper confetti in the air, and it floats down onto the group of us covering the carpeted floor. Bicycles hang from hooks by the spokes of a wheel; the peeling chintz wallpaper is shabby chic. Most faces are directed attentively toward the performer, perched next to the table lamp with his guitar. Listening to his tuneful chirpings, I'm thinking about the strangely social yet personal nature of this musical gathering.

We are at a folk show in a friend of a friend's apartment in Allston, surrounded by a rare breed of BU hipsters. Nellie, our BU friend who brought us here, introduces us to a few of her friends. While new people are setting up to perform, we chat around the kitchen table with scarved boys in peacoats and girls wearing ironic eyeglasses. Brendan buys a copy of Bridgette's $2 zine. Mahoney talks to Steve about some concert they both went to. Thay and I discuss Peruvian food. We converse pleasantly until someone walks in announcing, "This is not a party, this is a SHOW, so please get the f- out of the kitchen and sit yourself down in the living room! Thanks." So it's back to the show.

Next up, a folksy girl-guy duo has the floor. The lights are low, and while he strums and sings (clearly a bit tipsy), she carries the vocals (despite a self-proclaimed flu). They sing in simple harmony, resolution always following dissonance, with lyrics mostly about those small poetic moments of daily life, i.e. light through the window, calling home to mom, etc.

What I liked about the night was the feel of it all. You could tell they were all just friends hanging out, but had decided to spend some special time appreciating each others' talents in the comfort of someone's home. The audience was supportive and respectful. Even as a stranger, I could take part in the organic vibe. Somebody's dad (definitely one of those "cool dads") was also there watching and recording the music, while drinking and cussing to win over us young people. It added a funny "proud father at the talent show" feel and helped people from taking themselves too seriously.

It's a cool notion to designate time to just sharing music among friends; to see each other in a different context, or communicate in a different way. Even between family, a room full of strangers, or supposed college town rivals, music especially has a way of bringing people together. What's funny is that each person takes something different away, a personal experience. And this was mine.